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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649063">tomorrow's just a day away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus'>jonphaedrus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tortall - Tamora Pierce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, F/M, Immortals War, Inspired By A Softer World</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:14:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649063</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time when she hadn’t wanted to be Queen. Jon hadn’t wanted to be King, either, so they’d been a matched pair.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan of Conté/Thayet jian Wilima</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Purimgifts 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tomorrow's just a day away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihrsuri/gifts">mihrsuri</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p>
  <a href="https://asofterworld.com/index.php?id=832">
    <span>a softer world -- magic kingdom</span>
  </a>
</p><p>
  <span>In the deepest arrears of sleep, Jon felt the lazy, unkind hand of consciousness rousing him, the sort of I-really-would-rather-not that you always wanted to ignore and never really could. Light filtered through the cracks in his eyelids to force him to recognize that something was happening, whether he wanted it to or not.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Jon,” Thayet’s voice said, low and quiet and not unkind. Her hand on his shoulder was warm. “Jon, wake up.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Jonathan opened his eyes. </span>
  <span>Thayet was crouching next to him where he had fallen asleep bent awkwardly double over his desk, face pressed into some documents and paperwork. There was a small wet spot under his face where it was stuck to the vellum with sleep—hopefully nothing important. </span>
  <span>She brushed the hair out of his face, and there was a tenderness in her touch that made him feel like he might just start crying, he was that tired. </span>
  <span>Jon shut his eyes again.</span>
</p><p>“<span>I dreamed that we were out with Alanna in the middle of nowhere, having a picnic,” he muttered, the reassuring weight of her hand on his face tethering him to wakefulness, when he so badly wanted to go back to sleep and away from his problems. “In the middle of the meal you two decided to have an arm wrestling contest and you kept having draws. It started raining wine and it was the best I’ve ever tasted.” Thayet waited while he sighed, long and slow. </span></p><p>
  <span>There was a time when she hadn’t wanted to be Queen. Jon hadn’t wanted to be King, either, so they’d been a matched pair. And then Roger had happened, and his mother had died, and his father had died and Roger had happened </span>
  <em>again </em>
  <span>and Jon had to become King, but he sometimes still wished—that they could just go and sit in a field and do nothing all day, and Alanna would still just be his best friend and </span>
  <span>not still an old wound, and they could play with their children and not watch the skies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d wanted to be a hero, once. </span>
  <span>Gone running off to face his destiny for the sole purpose of proving a point. It had nearly gotten him killed. And then he’d done it again, and again, thinking that to be a good king was to tackle the future head-first, ramming into it until he broke through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being a good king meant showing up every day and doing the work. It meant not running. It meant not fighting for the no good reason. It meant his wife waking him in the middle of the night because there was a war on and it was full of gods and monsters and their children still woke up with nightmares regardless of who was winning or losing. </span>
  <span>Tortall didn’t need him running off as some king errant, it needed him here. Whether or not he wanted to sleep.</span>
</p><p>“<span>It sounds like a lovely dream,” Thayet told him, squeezed his shoulder. “After the war’s done, we should go recreate it.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Jon groaned and pushed himself upright, ran his fingers through his hair to try to fix it. “All right,” he said, and looked up at her. “What next?”</span>
</p>
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